


renegade

by feedingtheflames



Category: Original Work
Genre: Criminal Underworld, F/M, Gangs, Original Character Death(s), Prostitution, Psychological, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Torture, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feedingtheflames/pseuds/feedingtheflames
Summary: 'The tension was sharp, as if a razor blade was being held under a tongue. I wished I was anywhere but here.'





	

Falling so deeper into the lies  
Half-truths that you can’t deny  
Self-betrayal till you stop your act and realise  
Hate and rage only held me back  
Empathy with a heart of black  
Sacrificing the parts that made the future seem hard  
|-“Renegade” [TYER] Gangsta. OP ft Aruv-|  
________________________________________

.  
.  
.

Forcing bile back down my throat, I struggle to keep my mask of indifference in place. I’d be screwed if these savages caught sight of my ever-growing disgust. It’s funny how I’d made it so far with infiltrating into the Green Ocelot Demons – an underground crime syndicate – my hearts practically etched out onto my sleeve, seeping red puss and wearing me down. Maybe they don’t notice because they’re a bunch of dumbasses, too caught up in their sadism and bloodlust.

Damnit, I’m losing focus. Gotta stay in line else I’ll disappear without a hint I ever existed in this godforsaken world. You’re way over your head Abel, I tell myself.

Urging myself to look towards the makeshift boxing ring in front of me, I watch the two contenders throw punch after punch. The referee was grinning callously, his gold tooth reflecting the cheap lighting on the obscene graffiti-filled walls, loud and distracting. Figures. These competitions did nothing more than portray lambs being led to their slaughter. The mindlessness of it all starts to piss me off.

“Remember fellas, winner takes a finger!” Mr. Gold Tooth yelled, unable to contain himself “if you pass out, we take the lot.” Damnit, I thought to myself once again, hell itself wouldn’t be able to contain these guys...but perhaps it’s already here. After all, the concept of hell on earth is usually regarded as true nowadays. Besides, I brooded as I spun on my heel to head out of the crowded room alongside my two muscled companions, there would be no heaven to compensate for all the suffering here. Right now, the only thing I can do is to carry on and burn everything down. How fitting. 

 

OoO

 

The tension was sharp, as if a razor blade was being held under a tongue. I wished I was anywhere but here. The woman was smiling shakily, kneeling in the dirt on her hands and knees, overly made-up face dotted with smudges and mascara polluting the rogue on her cheeks - the scantily-dressed form showcasing her profession. I felt something like pity dwell up within me as I pulled her hair, but quickly perished the weakness. It’s too late to turn back now. I’m in too deep. The jeering and leering of the surrounding crowd drowned out moans of misery. I closed my eyes and tried to do the same. Failing. Falling. Burning

  

OoO

 

“You didn’t pay up, Jonah my friend” Tabris Gates – a popular goon with a talent for intimidating his ‘customers’ – leans leisurely against the wall of the business man’s comfortable apartment “That doesn’t sit well with me, ya know? And what doesn’t sit well with me doesn’t end well” 

Jonah tenses, and I glance underneath his living room table to see his hands tremble violently. I look away. 

“Hey pal, this here your son?” Tabris had taken a picture of the wall, and it displayed a boy barely out of his teens smiling widely. The tremors had now reached to the mentioned man’s legs. “Cute kid, ain’t he? It’d sure be nice to get...acquainted with the kid, ya know? We could hang out...” The crook now had a devious smirk of his face, twisting its scarred visage. 

The tremors took control of Jonah’s being as he stood up desperately, panic causing his words to falter as he cried out “Plea- please, I’ll do whatever it takes, anything, Adam’s just a boy, please – you said it yourself – he’s a kid, a child – I’ll, I’ll get the money I swear, I’ll pay up, just don’t bring my boy into this!”. 

The ramblings of the exhausted man were silenced as his tormentor raises his hand.

“Too late” He nods at me, signalling his order. Raising my custom firearm, I aim it at Jonah’s head. The weary man breaks, his eyes turning blank as he awaits his upending doom, his punishment. Resigned to being powerless, another casualty who God didn’t care enough about to save. Is his love just a drop of rain? Will he continue to forsake us? Something hollow plagues and eats at my soul.

The bullet tears into his skull and he collapses in a twisted parody of a rag doll, head blown open, brain and fluids leaking into his once-clean carpet; some of his blood splatters onto the picture frames of his family causing my chest to clench with emotion I hadn’t felt since the days of my youth. Of fibs and hurtful words I never meant to say. Of times I knew that I’d done something wrong. It feels oddly foreign and misplaced, so I reject the train of thought and turn to my newly acquired mentor. 

Tabris smirks in satisfaction and gazes at me proudly, as if I were a favourite nephew who’d just hit bull’s-eye on a dart board on the first try.

“Good job, Cain”

 

OoO

 

Thrusting a pair of rusty pliers into my palm, my mentor winks and motions towards the slumped figure tied to a shitty plastic chair which sat in the centre of the equally shitty basement room. 

“Go ahead Cain, teach this sonnovabitch what happens to traitors who turn their backs on us” 

Tabris cuts an imposing figure, ankles crossed along with his arms; his eyes boring holes into me as he stands in the corner. Judging. Assessing my body language and expressions. Seeking faults. As if I’d give anything away now. 

I’ve been wearing this mask for so long it feels as though it’s fused itself to me.

Advancing on the immobilised man, I soon transform his shrieking into hoarse whimpers. An eye for an eye, as they say. A tooth for a tooth. In this case - several. 

 

OoO

 

Is this how it’s going to be? A voice murmurs in the depths of my abyss of a mind, vague and empty. Hiding away the timid part of me, becoming what I’m not. Existing only to bring forth suffering in others, scornful of those weak and unable to fend for themselves, seemingly playing the role of the God who sits back and watches...and yet people still look up to him? 

Laughter tumbles from my lips, coming out choked and frenzied as I look upwards from the drying blood in the sink to the grinning agonised reflection in the mirror. Something inside me crumples slowly, something akin to willpower and courage. 

I look at the face, where dark hair lays limp around a grim haughty exterior, cheekbones sharp. Where bright blue eyes had once shone but now were dull. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. I concentrate, pushing my power into searching and searching, hoping to find something, anything. 

There’s nothing there. 

Abel is dead, I realise, and Cain has slain him; his own flesh and blood.

.  
.  
.

.  
.

.


End file.
